All the shadow clones fell silent at the sight.
Shigeo frowned. "Figures I'm still talking to myself. Lonely, bored, and cold."
He stretched lazily, turned on his heel, and dropped onto an ancient tree by the waterfall, settling into the crook of its branches to sleep.
The fake Fū had already received her orders and flown off to stir trouble. Only by acting high-profile could she draw Akatsuki's attention. That way, the real Fū would stay safe.
Beating her four tiny wings, the fake Fū skimmed over the mountain forests. Elsewhere, a hundred shadow clones, each disguised in various forms, split into two groups: one to scout, hoping to locate the real Takigakure as fast as possible; the other to "advertise," per the original's instructions.
"Hello, we're shinobi from Takigakure. If you have any problems, tell us. As long as you pay the commission, we'll do our best to help." A Shigeo clone, disguised as a Takigakure ninja, walked into a village and approached several villagers cooling off under a big tree.
The villagers stared, surprised. For years, Takigakure had been shrouded in mystery. Unless you were a high official or a lord, who could possibly hire them? And now someone was proactively soliciting work?
"Is it true you'll help with anything as long as we pay?" someone asked.
"Of course. As long as it doesn't violate the law or basic morality, we'll take it," the other replied.
"The old man's household in the village has three sons—good-for-nothings who turned into bullies. Can you deal with them?" a man asked.
The others nodded repeatedly. "Yeah, those three bastards aren't even human. I've got two mu of soybeans up on the hill. Before I could bring in the harvest, they stole the lot and hauled it to their place. When I went to confront them, they claimed they'd grown it themselves and then beat me up. Everyone knows the three aren't decent folk. They even angered their own father to death, and they've never farmed a day. Where would they get fields? It's bullying, plain and simple!"
"Tell me about it. They even stole the chickens I raised."
"And they pick on people in the village all the time…"
Beneath the big tree, voices piled on one after another, all furious.
The clone asked, "Haven't you reported this?"
"No one's taken it up," someone answered. "The village chief once gathered us to confront them, but as soon as the three heard we were coming, they grabbed sticks and drove us out. They trained in taijutsu with a shinobi for a time, so they can fight. We even tried to hire Takigakure once, but no one knows where the village is. Plus we're poor. So we've endured up to now. If you're willing to help teach them a lesson and make them mend their ways, we'd be grateful."
"Yeah. Please."
"Alright," the clone said, already relaying everything to the original through the hidden Rinnegan (Samsara Eye).
Dozing in the tree, Shigeo sent back a simple instruction: handle it as you see fit. Energized, the clone met with the village chief, got the full story, signed a contract, collected a deposit, and led a crowd of villagers to the three thugs' home.
In the courtyard, the three brothers were drinking and gnawing on meat, while their mother—skin and bones, in ragged clothes—trembled as she served dishes and rice.
"Hey, you old hag, move faster. Trying to die on us?" one snapped. "I'm telling you, if you croak, we'll toss you in the mountains like we did the old man and feed you to the beasts. If you don't want to end up scattered, then hustle."
At that, tears fell from the old woman's eyes. She muttered in a low voice, "I'm only asking to be buried. Is that so hard? I don't want a coffin or paper offerings. Just bury me. Is that too much?"
When her husband died last year, she'd wanted to spend her remaining strength digging him a grave, but the three unfilial brats wouldn't even let her step out the door. They dragged his corpse to the mountain and dumped it there. No one in the village even knew.
Only later did the truth come out. But what could anyone do? The three lived to bully the weak and steal. They could fight, too. Anyone who came to demand answers got beaten until they had no path left.
The old woman kept shaking her head. "This is my retribution. Retribution for raising three heartless beasts."
That wasn't really true. She and her husband had been strict, but when the boys were in their teens, they'd gone off to learn a few tricks from a shinobi and came back corrupted. With a bit of taijutsu under their belts, they abandoned honest work, brought harm to their own family, and threw the entire village into turmoil.
The clone arrived at the head of the group, a Takigakure forehead protector gleaming on his brow. Walking in front of the villagers, he stood out sharply.
"Hey! You three animals from this village, right?" the clone called out.
Hearing this, the brothers turned. They grabbed a mattock and a sickle leaning by the wall and shouted, "What did you say? Oh, I get it. You bumpkins went and hired a Takigakure ninja to stand against us? Today we'll show you who runs this little village. You're asking to die!"
They charged.
The other villagers flinched and scattered. Only the clone stood his ground, expression flat and stern.
A few piercing screams rang out. When everyone looked again, the three were already beaten black and blue, noses swollen, mouths crooked and faces lopsided.
"Everyone," the clone asked the village chief and the gathered people, "do you want their lives? If you pay more, I can remove this kind of scum for you."
Silence fell. A ninja was a ninja—far stronger than ordinary folk. In a handful of moves, he'd subdued the three.
"Kill them! They stole my soybeans!"
"Kill them. Leave them here and they'll only keep hurting people…"
Cries rose all at once. Most wanted the three dead.
The brothers shook uncontrollably, stammering pleas: "Please… we won't do it again. No matter what, spare our lives and we'll work like oxen, like horses—just let us live!"
"Our village won't keep them," the chief said sternly. "Either die or get out."
Even the three's mother stood silent in the yard, saying nothing in their defense. Trash like this disgusted anyone who saw them.
"We'll go. We'll go! We'll leave right now…" The three were already plotting escape. The ninja in front of them was too strong; they didn't dare move rashly. If the villagers allowed it, they'd bolt at once, wait for the ninja to leave, and then settle accounts.
In the end, they were counting on the old saw: a dragon from afar can't crush the local snakes.
(End of Chapter)
[50 Power Stones = 1 Extra Chapter]
[10 Reviews = 5 Extra Chapter]
[Check out my Patreon to read 20+ chapters ahead]
[[email protected]/Zukooo]